The Chase
by EmilyEcstatic
Summary: In this time, they were calling it the Great Depression. A fitting title, Blair thought at most times.Yet, when Blair was on stage, gripping the microphone like a lifeline, all eyes trained on her, it was anything but depressing. Historical Fic. C/B
1. Chapter 1

**AN: signed by emilyecstatic & emilyforprez:**

**'So I've never done a collab before, and even worse, I've never done historical before. So for a while, at least on my end, it'll be a bit jumpy. I expect it to. Stick with us, though - we have a lot of ideas, and we thought hard about the characters before we got started. (:' Enjoy**

Roaming lights fell across the stage, bathing the lone figure in a hazy glow. The cheers were sent to an abrupt stop, an eerie, revered hush settling over the crowd.

In this time, they were calling it the Great Depression. A fitting title, Blair thought at most times. Her mother's company faltered, having invested millions in the stock market, and they were virtually broke. Yet, when Blair was on stage, gripping the microphone like a lifeline, all eyes trained on her, it was anything but depressing.

Lips curving up into an indulgent smile, Blair turned, a grin forming where her smirk had resided as the crowd burst into cheers. "You're under my skin, baby," she crooned into the microphone, sending the people into silence and the lights to cease.

As Blair continued, every line growing an octave, she couldn't get a shaking feeling off. Unnerved, she cast one furtive glance over the room, eyes never lingering until they found their mark. It was hard to decipher the feeling – akin to being _watched_, yet every eye was trained on her lithe form on the stage, and she was well-aware of _that_ feeling. Blair gave an imperceptible jerk of her head to jar away the thoughts and forced another smile, giving the crowd exactly what they paid for.

When the song ended, so did Blair's confidence, and she slipped off the stage immediately. Finding her coat, she wrapped it around her scantily-clad body, nervously tucking some brunette curls behind her ear. Despite her inner turmoil, there were approving hollers flying at her as she slithered through the crowd. A smile replaced her worried frown.

Even though times were hard, it was like none of the struggles existed while at The Roar. She'd received the job soon after her mother's business fell, from the sympathetic – yet sleazy – manager, Rufus Humphrey. He'd only given her one shot to prove herself, and when all went well, he offered her the job to feed her family.

Which meant that well-known rich girl, Blair Waldorf, had resorted to singing at a night club downtown. It was almost hilarity that she enjoyed her job, even if she didn't adore the people she worked with.

"Great show, Blair," jeered a condescending voice, and Blair resisted wrinkling her nose as she slid into the seat opposite the offender. A cloud of smoke blew into her face as the other singer added, "Though I'm sure I could've done better."

Fighting temptation to roll her eyes, Blair just ducked her head shyly and murmured, "Thanks." She learned long ago not to spar with Vanessa Abrams – Rufus had some… _thing_ with her.

Vanessa took another long drag, casting her eyes over the crowd. Blair followed her gaze to a group of well-dressed men, and she averted her eyes angrily.

"Look at them," Vanessa bit out, echoing Blair's thoughts. "What do they think they're doing here?"

Blair shook her head, a small sign of ignorance. She disliked it – no, _loathed_ it – when the wealthy and careless decided to enter The Roar. Other night clubs existed, ones that didn't pay so low and were able to afford high-class dancers – The Roar was certainly not one of them. So when rich guys came in their envy-worthy threading, not one performer at the club wanted to _assist_ them.

"They're probably looking to tear this place down," Vanessa went on tirelessly, vehement outrage vibrating her words. "Replace it with some lot or whatnot. Things they think they need." She snorted and extinguished her cigarette on the polished wood.

"They better not!" Blair shot back, bitter words masking her fear. If they did tear down The Roar, she wouldn't be able to feed Eleanor.

"Keep your panties on," Vanessa said insolently, peering at Blair. "I'm only _joking_. Rufus would die before he sold the club."

Disquieted, Blair found herself watching the wealthy men converse. It was like watching grass die. "What could they be talking about?" she murmured half to herself, wistful. She recalled, not too long ago, being one of the spoiled girls those men came home to. It had taken Vanessa and Rufus a while to tolerate her because of her background, but they accepted her. For that reason, Blair didn't want to be a part of those 'business' men.

"They're discussing the best way to comb their hair," Vanessa replied simply. "With their golden brushes and somethin' or another." She turned to Blair, quizzically studying her with a half-smile on her face. "You know," she went on, fixing her gaze back on the men and pointing to one of the younger ones on the left. "That one's been watching you this whole time."

Batting her eyelashes playfully, Blair laughed, "Vanessa, _everyone_ was watching me."

"Not like him," Vanessa told her, equally as boisterous. "Ever since you left the dressing room, he has. Mind you, I've been staring at him myself." She winked knowingly. "He's a looker."

Blair followed Vanessa's stare with upturned lips. She could immediately see the man she was talking about, and at the sight, she tipped her head slightly to the side, scrunching up her nose. "The whole time?" she echoed wondrously.

Vanessa nodded enthusiastically. "Whole time," she confirmed.

Blair studied the man critically. His hair looked underdone – a new fashion statement she wasn't aware of, perhaps? He was wearing a well-pressed suit and sporting a sardonic smirk. Despite Vanessa's hinting, he wasn't even looking in Blair's general direction, let alone _watching_ her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blair said at last, frowning. "He's looking nowhere _near_ me."

Vanessa rolled her eyes with a dramatic scoff. "Not right _now_. Are you daft?" she sighed, shaking her head patronizingly. "No, but he _was_. I saw him, honey." She waggled her fingers at her eyes. "With my own two eyes, I did."

Blair tilted her head to the side again. After another close examination, she gave a subtle shake of her head. "Nope," she affirmed. "He's too busy sittin' there, looking important and all."

Vanessa propped a brow. "Says you!" she cried indignantly, a laugh sputtering out of her. "Why, he could be talking to his friends about a gal he's smitten with, just across the room."

"Oh, I'm sure," Blair giggled, gesturing to her appearance. "The slut across the room, more like."

"When did this become a conversation about me?" Vanessa teased good-naturedly.

Blair took in her 'friend's' appearance with obvious subtlety. She was right, Blair realized – Vanessa was always dressed for attention, even when not at The Roar. A time ago, she had thought Vanessa was just doing it for her job – and to please Rufus – but it was really just what she was like. Blair turned her gaze away to avoid being caught staring.

As Blair was gazing at the show starting onstage, Vanessa jerked her head and whispered, "There, he's doing it again!"

Instantly Blair turned, and she found herself locking eyes with the man Vanessa had been fawning over. It was then that she realized that intense feeling while up on the stage, and she cursed herself mentally – _he_ had been staring at her. A blush crept up to Blair's cheeks, and she blinked at the man before dropping her gaze. From the flush still flowing through her skin, she was certain he was still looking at her.

Vanessa nudged Blair determinedly. "What are you doing?" she asked fiercely, green eyes stretched wide. When Blair didn't answer, Vanessa prodded her again. "Well, be sane, Blair! Go over there and talk to him."

Blair gaped at Vanessa incredulously. "What?" she shot back, unnerved. "I'm not going to do that!" It was almost blasphemous, to approach such a wealthy man – after all, for working at The Roar, it was easy to see that one wasn't too well off with money.

"Yes you are!" Vanessa refused to be deterred.

Before Blair could protest again, Vanessa blinked and dropped her hands from Blair's arms. "Here he comes," she whispered warningly, smoothing down her short skirt.

Blair's head shot up, alarmed, just in time to see the suave figure sauntering towards her. She wanted to crawl away at once. It wasn't enough that the wealthy men had to enter The Roar – with all the rest of the clubs still available – but now she had to have one _stalking_ her? Surely there was no mercy.

"Evening, ladies." The man spoke mellifluously, with an undertone that hinted at an articulate tongue. His voice was smooth yet guttural, as if he'd just awoken.

Blair arched an eyebrow at him. He was nothing but stupid if he expected them to greet him with respect.

When silence preceded his words, the man rocked back on his shoes – Blair looked down to see them polished and wrinkled her nose. Following her gaze, he smirked. "So I take it The Roar doesn't take kindly to me," he stated simply, cocking his head a bit.

"You don't need to ask," Blair finally replied, darting her gaze to his and narrowing her brown eyes. He stared right into her eyes, something that felt intimate and impersonal all at once, and it was all Blair could do not to look away.

Vanessa watched the exchange with curiosity.

"Don't I?" The question was rhetorical. "Ah, but I do," he said, answering his own query. "It's to my understanding that you're paid to satisfy _every_ need."

Blair gave a sharp intake of breath at the words. It was coated with a sugary innocence, but there was a hint behind them.

"Are you suggesting that we're _call-girls_?" Blair seethed, clenching one tiny fist beneath the table. Vanessa looked equally as infuriated. The man seemed to relish in their discomfort.

"Of course not," he replied smoothly, eyes glinting. "Just making a statement." When Blair didn't answer, he took initiative and extended his hand in invitation.

Blair stared at the hand as one might stare at the devil, with contempt in her gaze and a scrunched nose. She flicked her eyes back to the man, who was standing patiently, expectancy in his expression and smirk on his lips. "I assure you," she started slowly, attempting to make her words as polite as possible. "It will be a cold day in hell before I touch you."

The man arched his eyebrow, impressed. "Then tell me your name," he prodded, dropping his hand at once.

Blair shivered underneath her overcoat, resisting temptation to flee. "You should know my name," she finally shot back, glaring at him petulantly. "It was announced onstage." She knew she was evading the question, simply because of the power names held over people.

"I'm sorry." The man seemed genuine and sincere, which only increased Blair's suspicion. At her pause, he shifted closer and took her hand, ignoring her faint protest. Pressing one chaste kiss to her knuckles, he spoke softly, "I was… entranced."

Hell just froze over, Blair thought wryly.

Snatching her hand away from the stranger, Blair made a dramatic show of wiping it on her coat, as if infected. The man's smirk grew wider at her display.

"You don't seem to take no for an answer, do you, Mr…?" Blair tucked a curl behind her ear, surprised to see the stranger following the movement closely. "I'm _sorry_," she echoed, sounding anything but apologetic. "I didn't seem to catch _your _name."

"Chuck," he shot out bluntly, fisting his hands in his trouser pockets. "Chuck Bass."

Vanessa, from where she sat opposite Blair, stretched her eyes open and piped, "The owner of Victrola!" To Blair, she added, "One of those rich-people night clubs, as we say."

Blair blinked curiously at Chuck, a hidden veil of distaste in her eyes. "What are you doing here, then?" she asked sharply, raising an eyebrow. "I know you haven't come to recruit."

"What makes you think that?" Chuck inquired amusedly. "You take me for a fool, Miss."

"You take me for a call-girl," Blair replied flippantly. "I'd say we're about even, Mr. Bass."

At the weighted reply, Chuck smiled, replacing his smirk with sincerity. "We're not even," he told her simply, voice dropped an octave into a smooth murmur. "Not even close." He leaned closer, and Blair could smell his cologne – an expensive, rare scent. "What is your name?" he asked again.

It must've been the scent that had intoxicated her, for, without pretense, Blair whispered, "Blair Waldorf."

Chuck smirked, obviously satisfied. "Well, Miss Waldorf," he began, leaning in a bit closer until he was almost on bended knee. "It was… certainly a _pleasure_ meeting you." He drawled 'pleasure' out, as if referring to her attitude towards him, which sent color straight to Blair's cheeks.

"I wish I could say the same," Blair sighed, sounding wistful. "But, for future reference, Mr. Bass… The Roar doesn't want you here."

"You're blunt," Chuck mused, a smile toying with his lips. "I like that, Waldorf."

The way he said her name was like a curse and a prayer all in one, and Blair swallowed soundly at the thought.

"Really?" Blair asked, feigning surprise. "I'm sure you like a pliant woman more than anything. Come now, I'm not a fool."

Chuck gave a low rumble of laughter. "You're intuitive," he observed, studying her face closely. "I also like that in a woman." At her words, he added, "And while a pliant woman is a wonderful experience, those playing hard-to-get are amusing. The chase is all part of the fun."

"Are you implying you plan to _chase_ me?" Blair couldn't help disbelief in her tone. "You're delusional, Mr. Bass."

"Am I?" Chuck countered softly.

Blair swallowed. "Yes," she said simply, not skipping a beat. "You plan on getting – what _you_ say – a _call-girl_ to wed you. It's… it's atrocity." Blair crossed her arms defiantly, lifting her chin. "I wouldn't lower myself to you."

Chuck crossed his hand over his heart, mocking hurt. "You wound me, Miss Waldorf." He smiled, eyes dancing with laughter. "But…" At this, he leaned forward until his lips were at her ear, tickling the shell. Blair felt a shudder run rigid up her spine, making her heart falter.

Chuck smirked into the soft flesh. "I don't plan on _wedding_ you," he whispered into the hollow. "_Bedding_, is a more proper word."

Blair's cheeks grew inflamed, the red color flushing all the way down her neck.

Chuck pulled away, eyes studying her expression and lips curving into a smile at her embarrassment. Pressing another kiss to her cheek, he murmured, "Goodbye, Blair." With that, he was fading back into the crowd, just another face among hundreds.

Vanessa just about burst. "What was that all about?" she asked, exploding with curiosity. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"By the name of Chuck Bass, perhaps," Blair muttered back, struggling to control the blush covering her body. "But he's more of a devil."

"What did he say?" Vanessa prodded, teeming with questions.

Blair shivered at the thought, pursing her lips as she remembered. Finally, she just shook her head, brown eyes wide. "He's… he's heinous," she bit out, seething. "And I hope I never see him again."

"And how _was_ your exploration of the common low-class night club?"

Chuck could roll his eyes at the distaste in Nathaniel Archibald's voice, but he knew it was basically correct. He shrugged flippantly, tossing another stack of papers on his desk. "Like a dream," he replied sarcastically, propping a brow. "What would you expect it to be like? Coney Island?"

"That depends on your definition of Coney Island. " Nathaniel mused, shaking his head. "What were the girls like?"

At the query, Chuck felt his back stiffen indignantly. "Like every other girl, Archibald," he evaded.

Nathaniel blinked, surprised, at Chuck, who was suddenly very still. "My man," he ground out in disbelief. "Don't tell me you didn't _bed_ anyone last night." At Chuck's silence, he howled with laughter. "You growing soft?"

"Never," Chuck said firmly, shaking his head and pursing his lips. "I was… regrettably detained."

"You were denied, more like," Nathaniel shot back.

"I met a girl," Chuck allowed smoothly, sifting through the piles of text and sighing when he didn't find what he was searching for. "And I made a promise to her I _will_ keep." There was a certain finality behind his tone, and Nathaniel knew not to argue with that. "I'm thinking I may return tonight," Chuck went on. "To fulfill said promise."

"Don't tell me you're planning your wedding." Nathaniel chortled, knowing the answer even before it came.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "No. I'm planning a _bedding_," he snapped, folding his arms behind his back. "With a delectable creature by the name of Blair Waldorf."

Nathaniel arched a brow, curious. "You seem smitten."

"Intrigued," Chuck admitted, "would be a better word."

Nathaniel chuckled, amused despite himself. He clasped Chuck on the back, eliciting a growl of distaste from his friend. "I foresee you being laid," he promised with unnerving finality. "Why are you trying so hard, anyway?" Chuck was usually the type to take what he can get.

Chuck shrugged, masking his intent. "Not quite sure," he confessed, leaning back on his office chair. "She's… you'd have to meet her, to understand."

"Think I'd have a better chance than you?" Nathaniel teased. Chuck turned a glare on him, which made him fall silent immediately. "Okay, okay." He held out his palms.

"Something about her _screams_ high-class," Chuck said absently, remembering vividly the curvaceous hips and full cherry lips, pursed as she retorted his words. "Yet, there she is… _not_ high-class." He was reminded of the girl sitting opposite of Waldorf, dressed scantily with a coy look in her eyes. "She's different."

Nathaniel frowned. "Could've been a victim of the depression, you know."

Chuck hadn't thought of that. "Maybe." He didn't want to think about what may have happened to make someone like Blair Waldorf a performer at a downtown club. She seemed above that. "Indeed," Chuck mused thoughtfully. "It's definitely a thought."

"Are you really going to go see her again?" Nathaniel asked, half-dubiously. "So many more call-girls that won't make you work for it are at Victrola."

"They bore me," Chuck deadpanned simply. "I like the chase."

Nathaniel smirked. "You wouldn't _know_ if you liked the chase," he pointed out rationally. "You've never been denied before."

Chuck raised a brow. "Maybe I'm _thinking_ I may like the chase," he evaded.

Whatever Nathaniel was about to say was drowned out by tentative knocking on the oak door, announcing the arrival of one of Chuck's maids. "Come in," Chuck sighed, watching as Jennifer Humphrey bustled in, apologizing profusely for being late.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bass," Jennifer apologized, blushing. "I was detained." She closed her mouth firmly then, aware that she wasn't often permitted to speak, and set down Chuck's daily coffee. Beaming overly-enthusiastically, she dipped her head, awaiting orders.

"Yes, well, off you may go," Chuck allowed, offering a semi-smile.

Nathaniel watched the maid curiously, cobalt blue eyes narrowed and critical. Noticing his stare, Jennifer turned, a questioning expression fixed on her face.

"Mr. Archibald?" Jennifer queried, tipping her head to the side.

Nathaniel shook his head to jar away his thoughts and blinked. "Nothing," he muttered, looking away. "Off with you, then."

Dipping her head, Jennifer proffered a smile and slipped out of the door.

Chuck snapped his gaze to Nathaniel, a smirk of amusement toying on his lips. "And _you_ chastise _me_ for being intrigued," he scoffed, emptying sugar into his coffee. "You wish to bed my maid!" He chortled.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "I was _admiring_ her form, that's all."

"You were _assessing_ how well she would feel underneath you." Chuck's eyes glinted knowingly as he tipped his mug up, cursing softly as the scalding liquid burned his upper lip. "Normally, I'd tell you the ups and downs of bedding women, but I've yet to touch little Jenny." He blinked, feigning thoughtfulness. "Maybe I should try, just to see –"

Nathaniel released a small growl from the bottom of his throat, and Chuck smirked. "Or maybe you want to _wed_ my maid!" The idea was so ludicrous; he couldn't resist a soft chuckle.

"Enough, Chuck," Nathaniel bit out, embarrassment covering his features. "I want to _bed_ your maid, alright?"

Satisfied with the answer, Chuck nodded. "Alright," he agreed solemnly. "As I want to bed Blair Waldorf." At the name, Chuck found himself smiling instinctively, recalling brunette curls and dark, fiery eyes. "She's a spitfire, that one."

"Sure you can handle her?" Nathaniel asked skeptically. "If she's going to play hard-to-get, she's not going to be worth it."

Chuck feigned surprise. "Oh, dear Nathaniel," he scolded, as if teaching a child, "you have _no idea_ how worth it she is. You'll just have to meet her."

Nathaniel blanched. "Are you seriously propositioning that I attend a downtown night club with you?" When Chuck didn't answer, he gaped, sputtering out, "They _hate_ us there. The dancers won't do shit for us, you know that; and they'll just stare at us like aliens."

Chuck shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

Knowing Chuck didn't mean his flippant words, Nathaniel rolled his shoulders despondently, acquiescing. "Fine," he ground out. "I'll go. But the minute a brawl starts, I'm out of there and you're saving your own ass."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Chuck mused fondly.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow! I'm am very sorry about this delay! A lot of sad things have happened since September! But I'm back and here I have the second chapter of The Chase, and I'm positive I'll be cranking out more chapters as we go along. As you already know this is a collab between emilyforprez and myself. I love her!. But anyway I hope you like this chapter and maybe review , I've realized that reviews really help me and I actually wrote this not only because my muse returned bit also because someone messaged me and asked when I was to update this. Again I'm so sorry! Love ya , x o x o

The dressing room was clouded with makeup powder and the scent of various perfumes and colognes filled the stuffy air. Hair pins and discarded stockings lay abandoned on the aged wood floor bustling with girls running back and forth, looking for lost shoes or rushing to get their makeup just right. It was a bit claustrophobic for Blair's tastes, but that was the least of her problems.

Her mother had been going through a rough patch lately; even more, Vanessa has been on her case, demanding her to think up a new number for The Roar. And, more than anything, it didn't help that she couldn't stop thinking about a certain Bass,

"Blair!" An impatient voice, husky with the evidence of chain-smoking, ordered exasperatedly. "Hurry up that pretty little ass of yours! You have about 10 minutes 'till you're up on that stage!"

"Rufus, I don't need your snide comments right now," Blair snapped. "Go and get Vanessa to tie the back of my dress."

Rufus hurried out the room, only to return with Vanessa and a few lipstick marks adorning his light stubble; courtesy of Vanessa, no doubt. Their little affair was quite obvious now, as far as Blair was concerned. They could never take their eyes - or hands - off of each other. Rufus would crack a few of his jokes and after receiving a quick reprimand from Vanessa about his wandering eyes, it wasn't surprising when Blair caught them stealing kisses in the closet on occasion. What a life.

There wasn't much to tell about Blair's own love life. She was still young and in her prime. She would never be more thin or beautiful at any other time in her life, as Eleanor frequently reminded her, so why waste it on men with questionable intentions? She tried to convince herself that she would only settle for a man in later years, or if it benefited her family in their time of dire need. Sure - women have been doing that for centuries - but now it was even more crucial to Blair. Her family was at their lowest; there were often times they didn't have an idea where the next meal or check would come from.

"Vanessa, thank God you're here." The relief in Blair's voice was obvious when she heard the approaching steps, clacking obnoxiously on the tile. "Can you help me with my dress?"

"Sure thing, darling. Wow, this thing's a beauty Blair," Vanessa added when she saw the expensive fabric. Her eyes became wide and wistful; Blair could see it in the adjoining mirror. She found the zipper, hands working at fixing it. "How'd you scrap up enough money to get this?"

"I didn't. It was one of my old dresses. My mother and I just tweaked it a bit to fit today's fashion," Blair stated proudly, unable to keep exultance out of her eyes.

"Today's fashion? Blair, most of us can't even afford meals, let alone care about new fashion!" Vanessa snorted. "All it does is come off anyway. Why bother caring so much?" There was suspicion in her tone now as she slid the last inch of the zipper.

"Because... one day, the fashions of today will become the iconic fashions of yesterday." Blair was quiet now; she'd thought this out many times before. She couldn't help thinking about her previous life at the idea, with the simplicity that came from having money and power. Shaking it off, she continued, "Just think about it. You may not care about that garb you're wearing, but in maybe 30 years time, someone will think that it' has the most regal beauty they have ever seen, because it survived this Depression." Blair turned around, curls whipping dangerously into her eyes. "The real question, Vanessa, is 'Why don't you care?'"

With that, Blair huffed and stormed off into another area of the dressing room.

Vanessa sighed, speechless. How could someone going through something so terrible and exhausting find the inspiration to ignore it all? She seemed to only focus on the pleasurable things, like fashion, and music, and finding joy in merely thriving. Despite everything, Blair managed just fine. This girl was something, definitely a force to be reckoned with. If only she could use her personality to create one of the best acts ever to grace a club's stage... imagine the money that would bring in! Vanessa reeled at the thought of it.

After adding the ivory pearls and crimson lipstick to complete her ensemble, Blair was finished. She caught her reflection in the mirror and bit her lip. When she was done putting on the mask before the crowd, she always tried to remember her adolescent years, the happier times. She hardly recognized herself. Her black dressed draped over her like a Grecian statue, sexy and classy and un-Blair all at once, her hair pinned with glittering 'diamond' hair pieces. She touched them fondly. Blair had found them in one of Rufus's desk drawers - origins unfortunately unknown, hopefully to remain that way. Her brown eyes shone in the coincidental lighting, innermost secrets about to be revealed to the world.

As Blair was about to take the stage, Vanessa and Rufus pulled her aside.

"Blair, I'm sorry about what I said earlier." She smiled placatingly, enveloping her friend into a tight embrace. "Have fun up there. I know you'll be great."

"She's right; you're one of the most talented girls here, Blair. Now, go on out there and do your thing." Rufus directed the words to Blair, but it was obvious he was itching for time alone with Vanessa. Blair rolled her eyes. Some things would never change.

With that, Rufus put his hand guidingly on Vanessa's back, escorting her to their 'usual spot.' Blair muttered a quick thanks with a another subtle eye-roll, making her way onstage.

The lights dimmed. The room silenced at once, all chatter fading to the usual hum.

Showtime.

"Shit, Nathaniel, hurry up. We're going to be late," Chuck muttered, glancing at the clock with annoyance burning his palms.

"Calm down, Chuck." Nathaniel rolled his shoulders, glaring at his friend as they hurried through the streets. "Christ, you act like she's going to disappear or something."

She just might, Chuck wondered idly. She was almost too perfect to exist. He cast annoyed eyes to the bustling streets. Why must the common pedestrian get in the way of everything? Both Nate and Chuck were past the point of politely letting people pass them as they strolled to The Roar. Now they were close to sprinting. Chuck wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to see Blair again; not a chance.

There were many things that Nate couldn't do, but one thing he could do was talk and run at once. Figured.

"So, Chuck, fill me in. Tell me about this Blair girl." There was a pause as Nathaniel furrowed his brow, seemingly in deep thought. "Her name was Blair, right? Waldorf. That's her name."

Chuck slowed as they neared the block of The Roar. "Yes, dear Nathaniel, her name is Blair." All at once, images of the fiery goddess onstage permeated rapidly in his head. Brunette curls, swathed around pale, delicate shoulders, with curved scarlet lips that appeared soft to the touch. "She's a gorgeous little spitfire; I shall have wrapped around my fingers in no time." Confidence surged from Chuck's voice.

"Oh, really?" Skepticism edged Nathaniel's words. "Wow, Chuck... I'd like to see you try." He grinned, patting his friend patronizingly on the shoulder. "You said before that she completely denied you."

Chuck glared mutinously at his friend. "I never said that," he evaded, though it was half-true. "We got off on the wrong foot." Letting the comment slide, he glanced up to find the sky darkening; dusk was upon them, and so was Blair's performance.

Finally, the bright white lights spilling out The Roar came into view, and the blinking lettering heralded its performers. Soon after paying their way in and grabbing a quick drink, the show was about to begin. Chuck would see Miss Waldorf perform for the second time.

Blair took a breath as the curtain raised; no turning back now. Once the crowd was in view, she gazed around, searching subtly. Strangely, she felt a sharp stab of disappointment that Chuck Bass wasn't among the viewers. So much for chasing her, she thought with a smug snort. Still, the slightest hint of frustration burned her stomach. The only way to handle her raging emotions was to sing. The music crept onstage.

You do something to me, something deep inside.

I'm hanging on the wire for a love I'll never find.

Suddenly, Blair's eyes swept over a mysterious hazel gaze, watching her fervently.

Chuck Bass.

Chuck seemed to be in another world, lounging by the bar, drinking his 'troubles' away. What troubles could he possibly have? He was the wealthiest man she had met in some time, hard to find in this Depression. Blair's eyes continued to the man settled beside Chuck, a new face, rather clean-cut with blue eyes that studied the crowd lazily. It seemed odd to think of Chuck having actual friends - however ludicrous the idea, he appeared much of a loner - but he must.

You do something wonderful then chase it all away.

Mixing my emotions that throws me back again.

Hanging on the wire, I'm waiting for the change.

I'm dancing through the fire, just to catch a flame

and feel real again.

The last few lyrics were easier to put into perspective; they were so true about Blair's life. From the time she'd been born, Eleanor doted upon her, lavished her with wholesome gifts and the newest fashions. Now that everything had changed, Blair's only way of survival was to dance and sing through the disaster.

The song was now at a close and the audience's applause roared throughout the theater, much living up to the name of the club. What a bittersweet notion, thought Blair with a pang of distress, getting such praise for a frivolous matter. This would be the only accomplishment she was known for.

Back in Blair's dressing room, she let her pinned hair down, revealing soft chocolate curls cascading down her neck. With a firm, determined stare into the mirror, she decided to keep her dress on for a bit more, just so she could pretend she could afford it.

Blair blinked at her reflection, watching the hazy mirror blink back at her. She drew in a shaky breath. No use crying about it; she wasn't the only one in the nation who'd been let down by the Depression. Despite the thought, a solitary tear fell down her perfectly blushed cheek.

A knock at the door broke into Blair's thoughts. She quickly scrambled to the sound, wiping furiously at the lone tear. With a final check in the mirror to make sure she was half-decent, she swung open the entryway. Chuck Bass stood before her, a smirk adorning his lips and a glint in his eyes.

"Miss Waldorf, I don't think I've heard singing like that in a lifetime," Chuck greeted smoothly, voice close to a whisper, as if he truly revered her. "You truly are gifted." He reached out and, before Blair could protest once more, pressed a kiss to her hand.

Blair wrenched her hand away, a flush rising up her neck. "Thank you, Mr. Bass," she responded formally, swallowing uneasily. She disliked the way he looked at her, like how a lion would look at its prey. "It did look like you were... enjoying the performance."

Chuck smirked again. "Oh, I did," he agreed. "But, enough of that." He gestured to a vague area behind him, a touch of annoyance in his gaze, as if he was waiting for someone. "I would like you to meet my close friend, Nathaniel Archibald."

"Of course. I would be honored," Blair said sincerely, lips curving upwards in the beginnings of a smile as a man hurried in from the shadows. He was just as handsome as Chuck, and probably equally as wealthy. What a surreal thought, to be around such rich people again.

"Ah, here he is," Chuck grunted. "Blair Waldorf - Nathaniel Archibald."

Nathaniel blinked incredulously, unable to believe his eyes. Of course, all performers were paid for their beauty above talent, and Blair was certainly sexy onstage, but up close she was beyond beautiful. He grinned; Chuck was right about this one.

"A pleasure to meet you," Nathaniel murmured graciously, following Chuck's example and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh, no, the pleasure is all mine," Blair replied quickly. She was starting to think that this new connection could work to her benefit in the future; of course, she'd find no pleasure in using Mr. Archibald, but perhaps if he was nice enough, he'd give a loan... the very idea sent tremors up Blair's spine. If only he knew what sort of trouble they were in.

Noticing the clock striking an ungodly hour, Blair realized she'd have to be home soon; Eleanor never liked it when Blair was gone for too long. "I must go; goodnight, Mr. Archibald. Get home safely," Blair laughed sweetly, knowing how dangerous the city was at this time, what with the homeless and mugging. With a dart of her eyes, she added, "You too, Chuck."

"I will be counting the seconds until I see you again," Chuck returned slyly, eyes dark with something akin to wonderment and longing. He winked. "Hopefully it won't be long, hm?"

Blair rolled her eyes subtlety, but managed a fake smile before she closed the door. To be sure, Blair locked it behind her, releasing the breath she'd been holding. Shaking off the thought, she removed her dress and pulled on her modest cap, shielding her reflection in the mirror.

"Wow, Chuck... I must say, you were completely right about that Waldorf girl. She sure is something."

Chuck allowed a smirk again, mind whirling with the images of the lovely creature, hips swinging in time to the beat. "Nathaniel, when am I ever not right?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

Nathaniel's eyes danced with laughter. "Most of the time," he retorted good-naturedly.

"Ha." Chuck rolled his eyes sarcastically. "So impressed by your wit, Archibald."

Nathaniel chortled. "You better keep an eye on that girl before I snatch her up when you're not looking." His blue eyes darkened a fraction, and his lips set; although he meant it as a joke, he realized it wasn't so far from the truth.

"What?" Chuck stopped in his tracks, all laughter leaving his eyes to be replaced with cold frustration. "I told you already; she's mine."

There was a pause while Nathaniel studied Chuck. Finally: "I thought you didn't mind sharing your toys." He blinked. "Or is she not one of your play things?"

Chuck snorted. What kind of question was that? Having only just met Blair, he obviously couldn't have even begun to have 'feelings' for her. After all, he was Chuck Bass; he bedded girls, never wedded them. "I don't know her well enough; and who do you take me for, a simpleton?"

"Sure you don't." Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders. "I saw the way you stared at her. Don't even deny it; you're downright smitten." He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice. "How about a wager to settle your feelings? Let's see who can win the beloved heart of Miss Waldorf first." No doubt, Nathaniel was sure he'd win. While most call-girls went for Chuck, it was Nathaniel who was better for long-term.

Chuck scowled; he hated the idea. How the hell would he be able to win? And, even more so, what would happen to Miss Waldorf when the bet was won? Would she be left with a broken heart and nothing more? Surely it would seem so, for Chuck and Nathaniel were never one for real relationships. But who was Chuck to back down from a challenge?

"You've got yourself a deal, Archibald," Chuck agreed solemnly, firmly deciding to push the worries out of his head. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go meet with a business colleague of mine."

Nathaniel grinned. "Sure, no problem. But, I'll have you know, I'm going to win this bet," Nate added, tipping his head in farewell before walking into the darkness of the night, swallowed by the shadows unaided by streetlights.

"When hell freezes over," Chuck muttered to himself, trying to catch a glimpse of Blair before night's end. Basses always played dirty.

Blair shivered, rubbing her arms methodically, as she walked through the brisk night air of New York. This was the time she loved best; the sun was setting, the surrounding air was pitch black and chilled... it was a night that made someone feel happy just to be alive.

Blair's heels clicked along the pavement and the stars shone like small diamonds in the sky, giving the city an ethereal feel. The moon - now apparent - also spilled white light upon her, casting her shadow across the pavement and illuminating the streets below. Papers lay scattered along the street; garbage lay also abandoned on the sidewalk. People rummaged through waste bins to find their next meal. How did it get like this?

Suddenly, a quaint sight startled her. It was a homeless man lying on the cement, bare and trembling. Blair guessed he had no money and even less a chance of a meal. Next to him was a little girl, presumably his daughter. She had beautiful brown locks of hair with haunted ice-blue eyes, too bleak for a girl of her young age. No child deserved that kind of life. Building up her courage, Blair walked over to the pair.

Blair forced a tiny smile, a twist of unease in her stomach. "Excuse me, sir, is this where you live?" she whispered quietly, as if raising her voice an octave higher would frighten the two.

The man jumped and turned around, surprise written on his visage. Blair's heart went out to him even more at his expression. His eyes, dark and emotionless, seemed to have given up hope, and the scruff on his chin proved it wasn't an easy life. He was too thin, and clutched at his daughter's hand as if terrified Blair would take her away. Still, there was a cautious friendliness in the way he stared at her, and he swallowed thickly before replying.

"Sure is," the man affirmed, scratching his head ponderously. "Been staying here for a couple months now." He gestured to the alleyway engulfed with shadows, where a few others lay motionless on the concrete.

Blair turned her gaze to the little girl. Seemingly scared, the child let out a whimper and hid behind her father's worn coat. "Is that your daughter?"

The man glanced down. Fondness kindled furtively in his eyes, and he smoothed down the child's ratty curls with a sweep of his hands. "Yes, my little Zoey." His eyes clouded, as if memories shrouded his thoughts. Then: "She's the spitting image of my late wife, Anna."

"She's beautiful," Blair answered, unable to resist a smile. She looked up again. "I'm sure her mother was, too."

The man's face withdrew from suspicion and relief flitted through his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured honestly. In a quick subject change, he added, "What's a pretty lady like you doing in this part of town?"

"I sing at The Roar. My gig ended about an hour ago, now I'm headed home." Blair gestured vaguely behind her.

"Not just that." He shook his head impatiently. "I mean, talking to us poor folk."

Blair couldn't help it - she actually chuckled at that. It felt liberating to be able to laugh during such times. "You've got me wrong, sir. I was affected badly by this as well. I work at The Roar to make end's meet, and just felt as if you both deserve better." Blair reached into her coin-purse before the man could reply, fishing out two dollars and outstretching her palm for him. "It's all I have; I would give more if could."

Gratitude shone in the man's grim eyes; Blair even thought she saw a glimmer of hope there. "Miss, that's mighty generous of you." He curled his fingers slowly around the slips of paper, as if calculating what sort of meal it could buy him. "You are an angel of peace in this ravaged world." He glanced up. "God be with you."

Blair swallowed, too choked up to reply. She dipped her head graciously to the man and turned heel, leaving the horrors far behind her. She found herself unable to regret what she'd done. Shaking off the thoughts, she continued down the street.

"Miss Waldorf?"

Blair jumped, startled. She closed her eyes, half-exasperated, half-admiring. She'd recognize the smoothly-flowing tongue any day. "Chuck, you scared the hell out of me!" She turned, annoyance clearly shown in her crossed arms and critical eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway? This isn't your place."

Chuck cocked his head to the side. "I'm sorry, but I was wishing for another moment with you," he replied wryly. Rethinking his words, he added kindlier, "Forgive me if I'm intruding, but why did you give that man your well-earned money?" He nodded towards the block over. "He's probably going to spend it on booze."

"I gave that man my money, Chuck, because that man had a child," Blair began, deciding to disregard his ignorant comment, "a lovely child. They were sleeping in the slums." The reason seemed obvious enough. Blair remembered back to when she was but a teenager, spending money whenever she wished, without a care for anyone but herself. She had been selfish and horrid then, but when the Depression hit, she found herself losing the outlook that the world revolved around her. "I know how they feel, to some extent. I wanted to help."

There was a silent, awkward pause. Chuck shook his head. "Forgive me if I'm being forward, but you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met, Blair." He was surprised at his own sincerity. Many women he met were paid to be nice.

Blair lifted her chin. "I doubt you've ever given a dime to anyone," she declared stubbornly. "Unless it benefits you, that is." Before he could answer, she added, "I know, for I was once like you."

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Then, if I may, would you take this money as a token of my gratitude for speaking to me this evening?" He held out a fifty dollar bill. "To make up for your selflessness, if you will."

Blair shoved the money away. She couldn't even believe his audacity to take her for an opportunist; a whore. "You think money is a token! You think you can buy my affections!" She shook her head, stepping back from him, as if disgusted. "Mr. Bass, if you truly believe that, you are surely a tyrant. People cannot be bought, not even lowly dancers at The Roar." She huffed haughtily and turned away, taking slow, deliberate steps away from him. "You said you loved the chase, Chuck; you better start running, and keep your money at home."

With that, Blair disappeared into the night, leaving dust scuffed on Chuck's shoes. She took nothing, only her pride and Chuck's respect.

An. Song was You Do Something To Me. This is my favorite story that I'm involved in and I really hope you like the story so far, really if you review I can get ideas for future chapters and get inspired to write chapters faster. Please leave any special comments/suggestions in your review or pm. Thank you loves. X o x o.


	3. Chapter 3

So I'm pretty sure EmilyEcstatic loves me more than she loves chocolate cake. Is that even possible? I'm not sure. It's because I'm pretty awesome and she's pretty awesome, therefore we make an awesome team. And of course we love each other so that's always going to be good.

I won't be writing anymore chapters, but I will always beta them and add things to them, so I'm still here and it's still a big collaboration.

Sorry for the wait all, we are still here, and we are still working together.

- emilyforprez

I love her ! - emilyecstatic

&+ Please read the AN at the end. Important stuff.

* * *

The sun burned brightly on the heated morning, radiating everyone with a certain glow. Downtown was always an interesting place to be at the hour. People were always bustling about, pretending to be exceedingly busy with really no place to go. Traffic was always tight, horns blaring loudly and people laughing with good nature.

It was easy to feel like the depression was coming to a close on a day such as this, but all of the damage done would take years to repair regardless. Many felt a grim fate was descending upon them; the war in Europe was escalating into cruelty, and it was only a matter of time before things would take a turn for the worst, if that was even possible.

But despite it all... it was a beautiful morning.

Blair strutted along the sidewalks in her navy dress and black hat, fervently thankful she'd kept the satin dress. She had painted her lips a dark red this morning, carefully applying her makeup with what little she had left. It was a wonder how she had not found a beau, or a husband, even, but with her dowry and current economic situation, a sensible man would overlook her beauty.

Blair shook off the thoughts with a brisk toss of her head. She had always enjoyed these walks downtown, because it took her mind off of the less-than-desirable situation she found herself in. It cleared her head, leaving it gloriously blank for more important matters.

Only a few nights ago, she had met Nate Archibald. She remembered well his polite nature and kind blue eyes. He was a sweet man, with an even sweeter bank account.

Blair stiffened. She hated herself for even thinking to marry or woo someone for their money. In spite of everything, she somehow believed she was better than that.

Maybe, she thought with a surge of hope, she could learn to love the man. Maybe.

Lost in her thoughts, Blair didn't notice the chilly breeze that came at her, sweeping her hat off her head and carrying it into the alleyway just behind her. With a mumbled curse, she followed the runaway hat.

She ended up in an empty alley full of doors and windows, presumably to an underground antique shop or two. Old newspapers and glass jars were scattered all over the place, as if the area was inhabited by other people; the thought sent a frown to Blair's face, but she shook it off.

With a cry of triumph, Blair spotted her hat and went to retrieve it. Before she could reach her possession, she heard a loud clatter behind her. Startled, she turned. Scanning the long alley all the way to the street, bright with light, and finding nothing, she turned back to get her hat.

Blair jumped. A man with short-cut black hair was holding her hat with a generous smile on his face.

"This must be yours." His smile grew. "Be careful next time, so it doesn't run away again." His tone was half-teasing, but he gave a brief wink to prove it wasn't just a joke.

Blair chuckled, and realized his smile was contagious.

"Thank you, sir." She took the hat from him, dipping her head in thanks. "May I please have your name, so I may thank my hat's savior?"

The man looked pleased with her inquiry, as if he was surprised to be asked. "The name's Ben. Ben Bentley." He outstretched his hand invitingly to shake.

"Alliterations," Blair admonished with a light bark of laughter. "How charming."

Ben cocked his head to the side with curiosity. "That's the first time I've heard that one," he remarked. After a pause, he added, "May I inquire to what your name is, Miss?"

"Blair... Waldorf," Blair replied hesitantly. In this world, she knew that names held power over people, and she was tentative to reveal hers to a man she barely knew. Still, she forced herself to loosen up, taking his hand and shaking heartily.

The man took a surprised jump back, as if something had just dawned on him. "Holy -!" He stopped himself just in time, giving a sheepish smile. "Excuse me, but... it's you, isn't it, the girl with the amazing voice from The Roar?" His grin grew wider.

Startled, Blair dipped her head. She wasn't used to being admired anymore. "I wouldn't call it amazing..." she drifted off, humbled. "But yes, I suppose that's me."

"I feel so honored to be in your presence, Miss Waldorf." Ben put his hand to his heart for emphasis, a bit overdramatically for Blair's preference, but still flattering all the same.

"Oh, please," Blair sputtered out with laughter. "It's not like I'm Vivien Leigh or something, though one could dream." She sighed at the very thought of it. With a curious tip of her head, Blair added questioningly, "Where is it that you work, Mr. Bentley?"

"It's Ben," he corrected halfheartedly, "and I work at Bass Industries; it's not that far from here."

Blair's eyes widened for a heartbeat, then almost immediate frustration tensed in her shoulders. Of course he worked for Bass Industries. It was just her luck.

Remembering her manners, Blair beamed widely at Ben once more. "Oh," she sighed, attempting to look thoroughly interested. "Then you must know... what was it, Chuck? I mean, Charles."

"Chuck?" Ben frowned. "The boss's kid. Oh, yeah, I know him." He grimaced, as if he didn't quite like the boy.

Blair's eyes narrowed, and her lips set into a thin line. "Yes, he is... quite the character, isn't he?" It was the best she could think to say in such a situation.

There was a short, awkward pause, and before Blair could break it, Ben coughed pointedly. "Well, Blair, speaking of work... I must return back to it." He smiled, but it was a blatant fake, as if he was uncomfortable discussing Chuck with her. "I was just on my non-existent break..."

Blair snapped back into place, a false smile once more stretching across her face. "My hat thanks you for saving her life. She is a naive, ratty thing."

They both walked towards the street, laughing uneasily and embracing each other in a quick, friendly hug before they parted ways.

Both of them were unaware of the town car across the street, with a pair of angry brown eyes staring out of the window.

* * *

Back at The Roar, Vanessa and Rufus were just tidying from a rendezvous backstage, Vanessa readjusting her dress while Rufus retied his loose and cheap tie. They were in the back of the club, in his stuffy, dim office.

Blair always had the fun task of discovering new miscellaneous objects in the drawers, grimacing at the obvious placement of a chemise or bustier she found. But, today, Blair took the morning off for who knows what. She had told Vanessa it was for a "walk" but she still had not come back.

Rufus sat contemplating in his chair, pressing his lips together in worry. He had received a notice just a few hours before: The Roar would close if they couldn't bring any more money.

This was the last stretch of the race; if they could get through these last few months without closing, the club would be virtually immortal.

Rufus sat spinning in his chair, thinking desperately for a solution.

Loud, obnoxious footsteps filled the room, and before Rufus could raise his head to see who it was, a pair of legs wrapped around his waist and he looked up amusedly to see Vanessa.

"I have got quite an idea," she announced with flourish, grinning widly in the dim light.

Rufus laughed weakly. "Tell me; I could use a good idea right now." He looked around longingly. "We really are in the dumps... we have got to fix this, and fast."

"I was thinking we could use that girl Blair..." Vanessa suggested mildly, trailing off. "she's a smart one, you know, and a pretty one at that. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and if I can get inside her mind, she could come up with the best number we've ever had." A malicious gleam twinkled in her eyes, and she went on in a falsely innocent voice, "And when she thinks she'll be the star finally, we'll snatch it up from under her worn out heels!"

Rufus cocked his head, half-amused and half-confused at what she was implying.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "I deserve to be the star; look at all I've done for the club!" She cast a pointed look down at Rufus, as if their relations was means to make her a star.

Rufus sighed. "V..." He hesitated slightly, then: "Why do we need to take Blair down?" As far as he was concerned, the girl had done nothing wrong.

"It's a personal vendetta." Vanessa rolled her shoulders carelessly. "One I plan on fulfilling."

Rufus realized from her tone that there was more to the story. "But why?" he asked carefully, staring up at her. "Come on, we don't keep secrets from each other, do we?"

"Fine." Vanessa shut her eyes for a brief second. "She has two men chasing after her like adolescent boys!" She practically screamed at this; what did Blair have that she didn't have? "Not one," she emphasized clearly, "but two! One being Nate Archibald - I fancied him in grade school - and Chuck Bass." At the name, she grimaced. "You, of course, know who he is."

Rufus snapped his widened eyes back to hers, mind already calculating. Chuck Bass fancied one of his dancers? That meant..

Vanessa caught his expression and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Wait..."

"Now I have an idea." Rufus grinned. "Great minds do think alike, love." He reached up for a quick kiss.

Vanessa giggled innocently, pulling back after a moment. "We must get Blair to convince Bass to invest - or even donate - to The Roar. Use his infatuation against him." It was perhaps the best plan they could ever think of at the moment.

Vanessa was thrilled; she was finally going to be a star. But she still couldn't seem to figure out how to get Blair to agree to it. With a stubborn snort of laughter, she waited for an idea to come to her.

Blair needed to watch out.

* * *

A few days later, in the later evening, Blair arrived at the side of The Roar to prepare herself for her show. She put her hand on the doorknob, preparing herself slowly, until she felt a cold gaze resting upon her. She turned to her left to find Chuck lounging against the brick building.

Chuck smirked lazily, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "What a coincidence finding you here, Miss Waldorf," he mused sarcastically, stubbing the cigarette on the ground.

Blair stiffened. It seemed she could never rid herself of him; it was like an infection. "Funny, Bass," she admonished dryly. "If your memory hasn't jumped ship like your social skills, you would recall that I work here."

"I recall," Chuck drawled slowly, snorting a bitter bark of laughter. "It's called a sense of humor; you may want to get one if you want Mr. Bentley to fancy you."

Blair started. How could he know about that? Then, with a rush of anger, she realized he must've been watching her. Not only was that exceedingly creepy, it was an invasion of her privacy; she should be able to talk with whomever she wishes.

"How dare you follow me?" Blair spat heatedly, all thoughts of her upcoming show forgotten. "Have you no decency? I oddly understand you wanting to follow me, but Ben doesn't deserve that."

Chuck's nostrils flared. "Boring little Ben? My dad's ex-employee, by the way - I had him laid off just for you." He smiled then, a bitter, angry smile that fueled all the hatred Blair could ever feel for him.

"You are absolutely despicable." Blair shook her head, unable to articulate her thoughts exactly. "You know how hard jobs are to find these days? How could you?"

Chuck tilted his head to the side. He didn't look remotely displeased, only amused, as if the pain of others was some big joke to him.

With a surge of dislike, Blair continued, "I could never understand how girls just throw themselves at you; I never will. You don't seem to care, do you, that he could starve without that job?" She had to stop herself; she was starting to get emotional, and it was scaring her. In a brief thought, she remembered how uncaring she had once been of others. So much had changed since the war.

"You think I am heartless." It wasn't a question.

Blair blinked, half-shocked at the direct words. "I never sai – "

"Oh, but you implied it." Chuck took a quick step forward, as if to emphasize his words. "I'm okay with myself because I can always be glad I'm not the one who earns money by singing at a club filled with whorish dancers." He sized her up with a cocked head and dark eyes, like a predator watching prey. "I'm not someone who probably sleeps with her boss for more stage time, someone who can't even be respected by her own parents."

Blair's breath caught at his words, and she blinked back a surge of tears.

Chuck smiled coldly at her. "Sure, my dad is ashamed of me, but at least he respects what I do. He doesn't try to change me. He can't."

Blair's lips trembled. He thought she was a whore, when she was far from it, hardly ever kissed a man properly, let alone sleep with one. She sang at the club purely for her pay.

That wasn't what bothered her; it was her parents. Her father was gone and her mother was depending on Blair to supply meals and money, yet always remained ashamed of the way she worked for her.

Unknowing of how to respond to the hateful words, Blair simply shook her head quietly, eyes downcast. "I detest you," she muttered brokenly.

Chuck blinked at her, opening his mouth as if to reply, but instead saying nothing. He stubbornly turned his head.

"I hope you enjoy the show, Mr. Bass." Blair slammed the door behind her.

Blair entered the dressing room, quickly slipping on her ivory dress. Almost at once she was ushered onto the stage by Vanessa before the curtain rose.

"You're late," Vanessa hissed angrily, but before she could say anything else, the music began to start and the other girl hurried off the stage.

Blair couldn't have replied. All of the things Chuck said to her were still running through her mind. She had to force a smile and fool the crowd into thinking she was the carefree girl she was made out to be in ads.

The crowd stilled and became silent as the curtain rose, revealing sea of different people all wanting her to be something she was not.

As her part began, Blair closed her eyes and did what she was best at: faking.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high,

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue,

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far

Behind me.

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops

That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Bluebirds fly.

Birds fly over the rainbow.

Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can't I?

Before the applause ended, Blair dipped her head thankfully to the crowd, blinking back a solitary tear and sweeping herself off the stage almost at once.

* * *

By the door, Chuck stood with his head down. He never regretted saying anything before; at the most, he only regretted the outcome. This was the first time he ever felt like what he said had been unjustified.

Chuck had never been so moved by a performance before; he pretended not to see the pain in Blair's eyes, but he could feel it in the song.

With a sigh, Chuck turned away into the dark night, as if he had never been there at all.

* * *

As Blair escaped into the night, face no longer ashy and pale with distress, she sang to herself, making a secret vow. She would never give up her hope anymore; she would never be put down again.

"If happy little blue birds fly, beyond the rainbow. Why, oh, why can't I..."

Things were going to be different this time. Blair was going to be different. Stronger, wiser. She was going to be a fighter.

The night never seemed more beautiful to her.

* * *

Please, share your thoughts.

An: Sorry to make you think that this was another chapter but I had some things to share with you. Life is pretty hectic right now with family dilemmas and schooling issues. I'm doing my best to crank out chapters but I feel like no one is reading except for a select few. So if you are still reading and or interested in the story, just review or alert letting me know, so I know I'm not imagining things due to my severe lack of sleeping. Thank you so much for actually reading this and I love you all. - Emily xoxo .


	4. Chapter 4

The ducks always did soothe her. The way they just swam around without a care in the world, knowing that this was their place. They made intricate patterns and swirls in the pond almost like a starry night in the depths of winter. The patterns reflected in Blair's glossy eyes as she fawned over the young ducklings while grasping the miniscule loaf of bread she had bought from a friend of hers, a very kind friend.

Piece by piece, she slowly would give equal shares to the ducks, and she would be enamored by how peaceful these creatures were. Her old memories mostly consisted of days at this place, Central Park. She remembered the day dresses and the berets as if they were still in her closet.

It was a quiet morning, not too quiet but perfect. It gave her a sense that she was still living and that the world was living as well. Occasional quacks of the ducklings would receive a rare laugh from Blair, and soon she realized that she actually had something to care for that would love her unconditionally in return. It was a wonderful feeling, Blair's heart warmed at the thought.

Her ministrations stopped and she was awoken from her minor trance when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Waldorf?" The voice belonged to none other than the White Knight. A soft, kind but confused voice with no intention of hurting her.

"Mr. Archibald?" Blair wiped the crumbs off her sky blue dress. She always had the instinct to look presentable in front of wealthy folk. "What are you doing here, in Central Park...by the duck pond?" Blair suspiciously questioned with fear and intrigue all the same. Surely, he had not known this was her favorite spot in all of New York, though the man was handsome, he was not the sharpest tool in the shed.

"The ducks are a delight to some, but actually I came here to look for you. Obviously, I have succeeded." Nate smiled like he was set on doing something; Blair just had no clue as to what.

Blair's eyebrows furrowed. "Me? What could've been so important that you had to trek though the city just to find me feeding birds?" Her lips pressed together in a firm line, she wanted her answer.

"I do hope you're not somehow occupied tonight, Miss Waldorf. My parents and I would like to offer an invitation to dinner to you, tonight at six o' clock. I do hope you'll consider –"He was interrupted by a short statement.

"Blair." Nate's questioning face proved that he had no idea as to what she was rambling about now. "Call me Blair, it irks me so when men call me Miss Waldorf when by me it's completely fine for them to call me Blair."

"Oh." His face of relief showed that he now understood and didn't believe she was mad or crazy. "My apologies, Blair."

He follows commands easily too, how quaint.

"As much as I appreciate and love how you even thought about me enough to invite me to such an event, I regret that I must decline, and I understand if there won't be a next time." Blair had no choice, in all honesty she would kill to go to one of these events, but in truth she had no way to look somewhat presentable or acceptable in front of these society matrons. Of course she had a few dresses, but nothing to make her feel accepted, therefore she would not go and embarrass herself; her pride was on the line.

Nate couldn't mask the disappointment on his face, he truly wanted her to go and meet his family. She was the perfect girl; she looked like a child sitting at the pond, a child that could easily take orders and sit there and look pretty, the perfect trophy wife.

"Oh, don't fret, there will definitely be a next time, I can't even get you off my mind, how could I never speak to you again?" The hidden confession was not overlooked by Blair. Pink rose in her cheeks and she sighed.

"You flatter me, Mr. Archibald."

"You deserve it, and by the way, it's Nate." He winked, tipped his hat, and turned but offered one last sentiment.

"If you change your mind about tonight, do not hesitate to tell me, we would all be honored with your presence." With that, Blair could only see the silhouette of a one Nate Archibald fading into the fog of Central Park.

* * *

Blair sighed angrily as she began to pack up her bread and other niceties. It was the saddest moment of the day, when she would pack up and leave the pond. It always felt as if you were leaving a friend's house early because your mother demanded you had other things to accomplish.

As soon as she was finished packing up, she heard that all too familiar voice that she loathed.

"Well, well, well. Look at what the fates have handed me today." Chuck declared sarcastically as he strode right beside Blair, and took a seat as if he owned the damn place.

"My, my look at what the cat dragged in." Blair spoke breezily and began to rise to leave when a hand stopped her.

"I see nothing has affected your sense of wit. You don't get nearly enough credit for it."

"I wonder if stalking is a crime." Blair drawled out, almost like thinking out loud. She saw Chuck's smirk grow and she knew she had won this battle.

"You love it." Chuck challenged her, he had the most miserable, boring morning, and this was like his morning cup of coffee, invigorating.

"I actually _loathe_ it. There's a difference." Blair sneered; she made a disgusted face and huffed."Can you please leave? This is my spot and I'd rather not need medical help after catching some viral disease from you."

"Your spot? Oh no, my sweet. This is _our_ spot now, I've tainted it." Chuck grinned and Blair wanted to smack him silly, but her self control saved her once again.

"You and I will never belong in the same sentence." Blair said this as a matter-of-factly. This man was the reason she hated most men, no pain or remorse.

Completely ignoring the ice forming in his gut, as well as her statement, Chuck questioned her once more. "Was that my dear friend, Nathaniel I saw retreating from your form moments ago?"

"Yes, and he wasn't retreating, he was being a gentleman even though I declined his offer…"

"Offer? Do tell." Chuck leaned forward; very interested to hear more of this offer his so called friend had run by Blair.

"Not that it's any of your business but Nate," she smiled wistfully, " asked me to dinner with his family, and I had to decline."

"Why decline? A night with the boss, classy."

"Actually," Blair felt her anger rising, and rising. She would take no more of this prostitution nonsense, he didn't have the right to know she wasn't one, but just that he needed to get his facts straight, "it was because I can't afford a dress," Chuck's heart sank a bit, and he silently cursed himself for the pain he inflicted on her again; but she was a hooker, hookers dealt with pain. He was silent, so she continued, "Now, I realize that even though I wanted to go desperately, why waste time being surrounded by people like you, Nate's not like that but I can't speak for his acquaintances." Blair paused briefly considering whether or not to make her next statement before forging forward. "And for that matter, you also need to get your facts straight."

"I think what you meant to say was why spend time surrounded by people that will never like you." He just blurted that out of nowhere, truth be told it was a low blow, but it just slipped out.

Rather than storm away, Blair willed herself to remain calm and ignore the sparks of anger and hatred that ran through her veins. "All three are obvious." She looked down at herself and smiled sadly while fingering her dress playfully.

"You know I didn't mean –"

"Yes, well I'm not going to be in denial anymore. So rather than rip a page out of my life, why not throw the whole book in the fire. You know what?" she turned to Chuck and his hesitant face, I should go to this dinner, and show my true self to the crème de la crème of New York City, thank you for enlightening me, Mr. Bass. Excuse me, I have to find someone." She hurriedly gathered her things, and stood and sped away, and was stopped once again by a hand.

"Blair, I'm sorry. Don't go to that dinner, you know you're better than them." Chuck tried to explain to no avail. Blair just groaned and shoved his hand away.

"Don't touch me!" she spat, "and only my friends call me Blair, leave me alone!" she cried and ran away and out of his vision. He had no choice but to follow.

* * *

Blair ran all through the park looking for Nate. She sped through masses of schoolchildren and couples walking trying to avoid the Depression. She finally spotted him in the center of the park by the fountain appearing to be in deep thought.

"Nate! Nate! Wait a moment." She raced up to him and he smiled expectantly, she loved delivering good news just for one's reaction. "I've had a change of plans, and heart", she added, "It would be my pleasure to have dinner with you tonight." Suddenly, a wave of insecurity and uncertainty hit her head on; she had a lot of work to do before tonight if she wanted to go up in smoke.

"I'd thought you'd never say that. I'll be by to escort you at five thirty. Speaking of escorting, would you like me to escort you home, Blair?"

"Uh, no thank you, I have many things to do and I need to stay on task, but feel free to take me through the park once more, then I must go."

"I'll take what I can get."

They both walked down the paved paths of Central Park to admire its great beauty together, while Chuck, all alone watched with an unfamiliar feeling, one he couldn't quite put his finger on.

* * *

Blair stood in front of her dusty mirror. She huffed in impatience and frustration; all of her dresses were either too conservative or too sparkly, no in between. In one last effort she dug through her closet, and on the ground she found something perfect to make sure her image would be tarnished forever. The book of Blair Waldorf was about to go up in flames.

She styled her hair by swooping it into an elegant low side bun. She took little strands and curled them with her old iron curler, well Eleanor's but she didn't need to know. Blair took two bobby pins and secured her hair, all the while chose her favorite fragrance Peppermint and applied it to her neck, wrists, and behind her ears, so one could find the scent.

She thought perhaps she was going too far with this whole social suicide act. Well, Chuck did imply that she was a whore, now to prove him right sounded reasonable enough. Once Nate and his family banished her from their sights, she could be an independent woman and maybe she would quit her job, and really get him mad. The problem was how to make money if she did quit.

Maybe she could become a street-walker. Just for show that is, show up, give a few kisses, take the cash, and bolt out of there. But, Blair Waldorf a criminal, never. She was still a pure woman and the greedy men surrounding her should not have a free go at her.

Frustrated with herself, she sat down on her bed, or what was left of it. It was all rough and raggedy due to her barely sleeping in it. She had tried to convince herself that the dark patched under her eyes were some sort of nutrient deprivation. With time to spare before the party, Blair just attempted to gather her racing thoughts and at least think of ways to make this a night to remember.

* * *

Chuck was fiddling with the olives in his martini in some seedy bar. Anything seemed more interesting than thinking about what Nate and Blair were up to at that party. He felt regret for his words, but not enough that he could acknowledge it.

The lights from the outside buildings gave some light into the dark club. Through the window he could see the puddles from the previous night's rain showers. The stony curbs and the debris made him feel at home. Nights like these, in un-named bars, with brand name liquor were his escape. Escape from his family or really his lack thereof. Escape from reality, the grim reality that he ruined everything he sets his brown eyes upon. Secretly, Chuck always wanted to someday be a hero figure for someone, do the right thing, just once to know what it felt like. To know what love and respect felt like.

But at this moment, all he has ever amounted to is defining himself as that shady persona with thoughts no one could ever imagine or understand. The wind was howling, as though in pity for him. He hated pity, especially when he knew it was for someone's benefit. Someone feeling sorry for how his father treats him then asks for money or gifts in return. Pity is not a consolation; he even tried to erase the word pity from his life. Feeling downright awful for someone and doing everything possible to ensure that person's happiness despite what happens to them is selfless love.

His deep and deranged thoughts were interrupted by a man in a dark pea coat finding refuge in this bar, the door slamming loudly behind him, the wind wailing behind the door and Chuck turning his head, wanting to be left by his lonesome.

Soon Chuck decided to get up and move to a table reserved to the side for him. He hated sharing the bar with other men, it felt wrong, this was his time to think and sink into his own regret, not someone else's.

He sat down with his face towards the wall, and the back of his head facing the bar. He could hear the conversations, but not have to look at their sorrowful faces. He had enough troubles of his own, hearing others would make it worse, at least in his mind.

He heard the bartender preparing a drink and the occasional clanking of bottles that he was accustomed to. Chuck also heard the bar stool squeaking as the man pulled it out to take a seat. His ears could tell that the bartender just slid the drink to the eager man. He sounded solemn and calculated, but had too many things running about his mind that the man shakily thanked the bartender.

"Thanks, man."

He knew that voice. That voice that sounded distant but always there. So Chuck turned his head slightly and his suspicions were confirmed.

There on the bar stool sat the one and only Nate Archibald who he had seen earlier today at the park gallivanting off with Blair. He was ashamed that he was one of his friends. He remembered the bet he made with Nate, but he didn't think Nate would be a hard competitor. And Chuck was also wondering why was he here, and not with Blair at the party, or off to accompany her.

Off in the distance, Nate sighed and asked the bartender for another drink. The bartender, Joe seemed concerned with the boy's look.

"Son, what's botherin' you, you've seemed blue ever since you came into the joint."

Joe's raw and raspy voice came from his years of smoking and drinking. Chuck knew this because he had come to this place as long as he can remember drinking, which in most cases he couldn't. He had been there for Chuck when he found out the truth about his mother's death, he was there if Chuck had too much to drink and had to make it home somewhat sober, he'd been there for everything. It seemed Joe was caring enough to worry about Nate as well.

"It's nothing. Just a lot on my mind, that's all."

Joe's eyes scanned Nate's bowtie and tuxedo. Then he looked down at himself, with his old shirt and bartender half apron and suddenly felt embarrassed but continued to speak.

"Looks like you're headed to a party or something"

Nate's blue eyes brightened and nodded."That I am, it's really important, and I'm just preparing myself. I think I'll have another." He slid his glass over to Joe who nodded and replied a short, "Sure thing."

Chuck did not like what he was hearing, and he was pretty sure his neck was turning red, and that it was spreading to his eyes, which were burning with rage and jealousy. He turned around for one last look before he was going to confront Nate and the sight he saw would burn in his memory forever.

There in the hands of Nathaniel Archibald was the infamous Vanderbilt diamond ring. Chuck's heart stopped, and his breathing paused. He knew that ring because Nate's mother had been wearing it since they were children. Anne always planned on giving it to Nate when he found a suitable girl to settle down with.

The ring sparkled in the dimly lit bar and taunted Chuck. Nate was just playfully twirling it around and sighing, almost with gratification. And the grim realization came to Chuck.

Nate was going to propose to Blair, and she was going to say yes.

But, Blair was going to destroy her reputation at this party.

Either two things could happen, Blair could desert the whole New Blair act before this party and become an Archibald, or revolt the whole Archibald clan and never been seen in the public eye again. Even though both were horrible consequences, Chuck decided he could change this, do something right for once. He could fix this, and even if Blair didn't want him in the end, he would be justified that he didn't hurt her, one time.

Unseen, he sped behind Nate and out the door of the bar. Nate looked up startled and saw no one, so he snuck the diamond back into the black velvet case, and into his pocket, and finished off his drink.

* * *

Chuck strode down the streets of the city. He was set on being the hero for once. He was a walking cliché, literally. Chuck Bass trying to do the right thing. As he embarked to the Waldorf home, all he had on his mind was what he was about to do.

Selfless love.

* * *

Probably, my favorite chapter yet. Please reveiw if you have ever alerted this story, so I know you're reading. And thanks for Kate2008 for beta'ing. I love her! Share your thoughts, and I love you all.


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